Lovely Obsession

Epilogue

Sophie

A  game of tag, a growing obsession, stalking, killing, kidnapping. And even more bloodshed. All in the name of love. Or rather, an obsession under the name of love. Everything that had happened, all because of that.

Five years. It's been five goddamn years.

Upon returning home, naturally, there was a big hype. I, missing for weeks, suddenly turn up again. Perfectly fine. Physically, anyway. My mind, my thought process... It's went downhill.

And it hurt. It hurt having to be going home, expecting to see everyone. Mom and Dad were there, other family members. That was nice. But... Leon? No. He wasn't coming home. And what made it worse was that, after coming home, the police returned to give us some more news.

Two corpses had been added to that pile. A close family friend, Juan. He must have come in the campus with Leon. And the other corpse, was Brooke. She had been killed not a day before Leon and Scott were killed. 

Blake killed another friend, another sibling of mine. He took almost everyone. However... What I did, was already done. And I can't take it back.

When I was home, I never wanted to leave. I blocked and locked all doors and windows, I never wanted to go in the outside world. But I had to go in the backyard for fresh air and sunlight. Twenty minutes. I counted, and would run back inside. I locked all the doors.

All my close family members came to see me. I almost shoved lots of them back when they hugged me. I never wanted to be touched again, not at all. Interviewers came, only a few were allowed in. Asking me questions, with the answers I didn't want to think about.

Upon looking at the web and in the news, I found that people thought something of me.

Sophie Clark, held captive for two weeks, developed Stockholm Syndrome.

That wasn't true. It wasn't true at all. I never thought negatively towards the authorities and people who could help me. I never thought positively of Blake, someone who murdered almost everyone I loved. The only relatively good thing I felt towards him was...

I just... Didn't want Blake to die. I really didn't want him to.

When I said that to another interviewer, she asked me why I didn't want him to perish. I was silent, I didn't know what to say.

A week after I returned home, that interviewer that I mostly talked to returned and gave me something. She gave me two slips of paper, each holding an address. "The first one," She said, "It's Blake's home. I spoke to his guardians, and they'd like to see you and offer their apologies."

I felt that I should apologize to them.

"And..." She said, "The second one is..."

I decided to head to the hotel first, to see what exactly this George and Lauren wanted. I really didn't want to be rude and ignore their request. I was standing in front of their door for so long, I forgot what I was doing. Finally, I knocked on the door. It was opened in less than five seconds.

That hour was full of awkward hugging. And a story.

Apparently, Blake had been abducted by his mother, whose mind was obviously corrupted to the core, when he was four years of age. She starved him and abused him and even stabbed him some times. And to add sprinkles on the cake, she killed his Father, right when he was about to be saved. And then, killed herself in front of him, too, because why not?

It was just like what had happened over my two weeks in that school. Blake kept me there, killed my brother, right when I was about to be saved. And then he stabbed himself, to take away his own life, just like his mother...

Although, I hadn't been in there for more than a month. Blake never stabbed me, either. He gave me food and water. 

It all really made me wonder... If he was smart enough to know that starving and abusing me was to be frowned upon, because he underwent that, how did he not know that kidnapping someone to begin with was bad? That killing someone to begin with is bad? I really wonder.

I couldn't return to school - I just couldn't. So, for the rest remaining year of Junior year, and the full Senior year, I was home-schooled. But when it was over, I knew I had to go to a University, with people. I worked harder in my studies to make it at least a little bit easier to go into a private University. Less people.

Whenever I was free from my work, classes and studies, I returned home. I made sure to spend time with my parents, and other family members, they frequently came to visit me when I returned home. But most of the time I went to that place. My family couldn't know I went there. A cousin of mine found out, I had forced her to promise me not to tell anyone. The paper the interviewer gave me was still pinned in my room, another copy in my dorm. I had memorized it, though.

I drove all the way there. It was about two towns over. The place had some ups and downs, depending on who was thinking of it. On half of the days of the weeks, visiting hours were long. Today was one of those days. And another downside - to most people, was that there was no "visiting room" on some days. The downside of that was that, as most people said, it was dangerous. Understandably so, for most people. Sometimes the hidden emergency button we were given could be seen, and unreachable.

The building was wide, and with tall three stories. I guess most people liked to come here. I left the car, leaving everything else inside. The check in room was a bit larger then I felt it should be. And they even had their own shop in there at the corner. Okay. They didn't sell the things listing the building's name, but just nice little things you could give to anybody, preferably the one you came to visit. 

I left my money back in the car, so I couldn't get anything.

When I went to the sign in table, I was given the visitors check in sheet. When I finished, I had to sign my name on another sheet. I looked at the whole sheet before signing.

I saw it in there. Three hours ago, George Pedersen. A very small smile was allowed to creep on my face. 

The lady at the desk gave me a visitor's pass to put on my coat, and a necklace that held button. I knew the routine, pulling it on, and hiding the button beneath my coat. Another man had came in right before me, so we both had to wait for our escort to come. We gave our keys to the lady running the visitor's desk.

No one should know I was here. Even the staff helped to make sure my visits were hidden from my family.

A man finally entered the room, and allowed us into the corridor. I tried to keep my eyes off the other doors. We went through many locked doors, that only led to other hallways. At the third one, the escort knocked on a door, waited a few seconds, and then unlocked it, opening it. The man who was walking with me went in the room, and it shut. I frowned.

I was led through the elevator to the third floor, and then through three more hallways, and then the man stopped. He gave me a glance, I nodded, and then he knocked on the door. We waited ten seconds at most, and then he unlocked the door. He opened it.

I nodded to him with a small smile, "Thank you." And then I entered the room. Despite the fact that he closed it right after me, I had turned to double checked if it was closed. And then, I didn't want to turn around. My eyes shut, I kept releasing heavy breaths.

I glanced over my shoulder, and then finally turned around.

The room was painted a faint, grey white. In the middle of the room, the back of it against the wall, was the bed. The blue sheets were settled nicely, the white pillow's ends against the white steel edges. Over the bed, near the pillows was a pull over desk, empty of anything on it. To the side, over the bed was a telephone, connected. At the sides of the bed was drawers, two cups placed over one. At the end of the room, in front of the bed, was a television up near the wall. The window's curtains were blue, just barely open.

At the side of the room, was a table. A half done puzzle was set over it, all it's remaining pieces scattered in one area. I started to tremble when I fully acknowledged the person sitting behind the table. Then again, who else was I expecting?

My knees were wobbling. I tried to calm them, and I surprisingly, succeeded. I took steps over, and the person had not yet looked up.

I tried to say their name, to get their attention.

"Blake."

A dark shadow was over his stressed, green eyes, which were directed at the puzzle board on the table. His hair was much longer, much messier and rumpled. His lips formed a frown.

Green eyes still dark and shadowed, he rose his head to look at me.

Back then, when he stabbed himself, I didn't know what to do. All I knew was... I didn't want him to die. I really didn't want that. I had searched his pockets and found his phone, that's when I called the police. I made sure to tell them that someone was in fact injured.

Yeah. The one who kept me captive for weeks, the one who killed people, including my boyfriend, a family friend, and my two older siblings. He was injured - he stabbed himself. And I made sure the police brought an ambulance.

I guess that's where people started to think I developed the syndrome.

And now, here I was, visiting Blake in this Psychiatric Hospital every chance I got.

It was very sick and twisted.

Sometimes, I wouldn't be allowed in to visit Blake. Because he was having one of his, as the doctors said, "dissociative episodes". I think that's what he was having before he stabbed himself. He had kept rambling to himself, having a conversation with... Himself. Both completely different personalities.

Apparently, he had them almost daily here.

He was brought here and not to jail, because after giving him some tests, it was proven that he was in fact, medically and drastically insane. It was pretty obvious. Well, to me at least. And what with the trauma he went through in the past being left un-treated, it clinched it.

He's been in here for five years already, and each year, it keeps being shown that his mental stability will not get any better past it's current point. So, he's a permanent resident of the hospital.

Most of the time, like right now, I felt that he forgot who I was. I'd walk in the door and it would take almost forever for him to look at me. And he looked so stressed out and sullen. He would look down and ignore me as I walked around the room, waiting for him to say something.

That's what was happening today. Finally, I pulled up a chair and sat in front of him. He never looked at me. I don't think he was even doing the puzzle. He just kept staring at the formed pieces.

So, we both sat there in silence. That's what we did, most of the time. Just sit in silence for hours, until visiting time was over. An hour passed, but we had lots of hours left.

His softened, shadowed eyes still on the puzzle, his lips moved, "Sophie."

I jumped. I looked up at him, "What is it?"

And talking to him still felt as sick and twisted. Here he was. The person who drugged me, kidnapped me. And he killed people, four of which I was very close to. The person I swore to kill.

And he was sitting right in front of me.

It made me want to die. I really couldn't take this.

"How're..." His voice was strained, as if he hadn't been talking in years. Well, he hardly talked. I wondered how George's earlier visit went down. Maybe I could call and ask once I left. "How're you doing in the school?"

So he remembered that this time.

"... I'll only be off for two more days." I said, and finally had to courage to pick up a puzzle piece, "There's lots of work, and I have to study a lot." I placed it near it's close pieces.

"So, in there, you just... Study - and go to class?"

And occasionally skip class. To study. "Yeah... There's not... Much time for friends."

Blake moved, and I didn't flinch. He picked up a piece and placed it where it belonged, "Do you have any?"

"... Not really." I shook my head, "We don't share dorms, either. There's not much students there. It's a private University, after all."

"Oh." He paused, "That's good."

We were both silent for another moment, before Blake spoke, still low and soft, "You said you'll only be home for two more days. Will you visit again?"

I don't want to. But I do. It's weird. I don't want to, because you're... You, who did all that stuff. But my body just forces me to come and stay.

"Yeah." I said, "I promise. This our new..."

Things got quiet again. I stared at Blake. He looked at me, and let himself smile. He whispered, as if we were sharing a secret.

"Our new special place - where we could be together forever."